Trapeze

I cannot lie here forever.
I feel I am slowly coming to
and the silence has been emptied
of the gasping crowds and
the wild sirens and the
panicked heartbeats and the
rush
of
breath.
I am lying in the net.
my fingertips have stopped their tingling
where flesh ought to have met flesh;
my gut has almost unclenched from
that wrenching lurch of nothingness,
the slide of thin air across my palms,
and the sickening shift of falling.
even my eyes have stopped
scouring the darkness for signs of life
in the canopy high above.
the swings are still
and the air is still
and I am still,
but I cannot lie
here forever.
I must decide
to give up,
or climb.

(c. June 2017)